


It's Not Enough

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: 30 days writing challenge, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Day OTP Challenge. 30 oneshots about Altair/Malik in various situations. Slash & Romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen this before, I want to try it this time too. 30 Day OPT Writing Challenge.

Altair's father was buried when he'd been eleven years old and as they lowered his corpse into the ground and when the last prayers fainted, Al Mualim had stood behind him and squeezed his shoulder. The grandmaster of the assassins didn't lose a word that day and it stayed by this single gesture of comfort. Altair had never needed more. This one, single gesture gave him the feeling that everything was going to be alright. It was alright. The pain was unbelievable, because not only had he lost his father but his whole family, but somehow, as long as he wasn't all alone, everything would be alright. Al Mualim, who stood next to him during the funeral, who stood as solid as a rock behind Altair to protect him, was there for him to answer his questions and who would introduce him to the world of the assassins. 

Now Altair stood alone in front of Al Mualim's corpse. He buried his father for a second time but this time, he thought the pain would suffocate him. In all those past years, Al Mualim had been more to him than just the grandmaster of the order. For Altair, he'd been a father, the one he could turn to when the thoughts inside his head wouldn't shut up, when he had too many questions and too little answers. Al Mualim had been a strict tutor, no doubt about that, but he'd been always fair and was a solid anchor in Altair's life. From today on it would be different though. He already missed the voice of the old man, which was calm, but distinct and clear when it was echoing through Masyaf's halls. He remembered the expression on his face after Solomon's temple when he'd stood in front of him. He'd never seen his master that disappointed. Altair wanted to believe that the pain he saw on that day in his master's eyes was because of Altair and how he didn't follow the creed and not because he didn't bring him the Apple. He wanted to believe that Al Mualim hadn't been corrupted by his lust for power back then, that the Apple hadn't poisoned his mind yet. 

The flames were blazing high and took everything with them and nothing would be left of the old man's body and everything which stayed would be Altair's memories alone. He wanted to lose himself in his childhood's memories and tried to remember how he stood as a small boy in Masyaf's halls, lonely and lost until he heard Al Mualim's voice which guided him through the endless halls of the fortress and out of his mind's labyrinth. But all he saw now was the ugly grimace of his master as he had faced him in their last battle. The rage, which laid underneath the man's voice and his arrogance, which had been his downfall in the end. 

Chaos was ruling these days and Altair thought he would collapse underneath it. The future was vague and the pictures the artifact had showed him, didn't help to ease his mind and bring it to a rest. The future was black like a shadow and threatened to swallow Altair. Nothing made sense now, nothing was as it used to be. Nothing is true. Altair was certain about that. Everything is permitted. Altair wasn't so sure about that anymore. 

He bowed his head and his hood fell deep into his eyes and covered his face in a shadow. None of his brothers were here. Their pain about Al Mualim's betrayal was too deep and more than one of his brothers saw in Altair the true traitor. Maybe they were right about that. The guilt never let go of Altair and still, in moments in where he was able to think clearly he knew he'd done the right thing. 

_For us to live, you had to die._

He wasn't crying and still, he thought to choke on his tears. Within a few months his whole world had come tumbling down and more than once he wished that all of them, he, Kadar and Malik, had died back at Solomon's temple so the artifact had never found its way into Al Mualim's hands. But then the templars would have it now and who knew what chaos they would have brought upon the world. It had been Altair's sacrifice to make. His interests, his wishes and desire didn't count as long as the world was at peace. One's sorrow was acceptable if it meant to safe the life of thousands. 

He heard steps behind him and through the cracking of the fire but he didn't turn around as he knew exactly who it was. The figure which walked through the gravel hold something odd within it steps, as if something was missing which didn't balance the weight of those steps completely. Altair sniffled barely as Malik stood next to him. The flames were hot and the body of the grandmaster had become a figure made out of ash and the robes were already gone. Malik didn't say anything and still, his present was enough to offer Altair some comfort. The gesture alone was enough that he didn't feel as alone as he had before. 

The sun would soon settle and the sky hold the color of a deep red and orange and he could hear the shouts of the men coming from the fortress as they tried to get rid of the chaos caused by the last battle. But the chaos inside Altair's head wouldn't be that easy to get rid of and his shoulders slumped down and he felt as if all of his strength would leave him any moment now while the weight of his new gained responsibility threatened to pull him down. 

He jerked when Malik took his hand and threaded their fingers together, squeezing. He leaned slightly into Malik's body. For a moment he was able to rest on Malik's shoulder and the weight didn't push him down as hard as it had been before. Malik's thumb brushed in small waves over the back of his hand and gave him comfort. They stood for a long time like that until the sun was gone and Al Mualim's body had fallen to ashes. The roaring, screaming thoughts inside Altair's head had been gone for a long time now and shrunk down to a whisper. All this time Malik hadn't lost a word and never let go of his hand. 

In the end, the older man opened his mouth to speak. “Come one”, he said in a calm voice and his words were barely above a whisper, “night's here and the men want to see you.” 

“And what should I tell them?” Altair's voice sounded horse since he didn't speak for so long and in the middle of the sentence, his words had cracked. 

Malik didn't answer but squeezed his hand again before he let go of his fingers. Even though he didn't give Altair an answer to one of his many questions, he knew it wasn't that much of importance as the feeling of not being alone was by far of more value. He lifted his head and straightened his shoulders, his chin high and he followed Malik's steps back to the fortress. He followed Malik through the twilight, a constanc blue glowing radiating from his body and it was enough to lead Altair through the darkness of his own mind.


	2. Cuddling

“Go away, you're cold.”

A hand shoved his head aside but that didn't stop him from crawling all over Malik. “That's the point of this”, Altair murmured and wiggled his way underneath the man's blanket, shivering while a fine cloud of white cold air appeared in front of his face. His fingers felt stiff when he wrapped them around the blanket and pulled it tighter across both their bodies, burying his face in the crook of Malik's shoulder. 

Malik groaned and rolled flat on his back, taking Altair with him so the assassin was kind of a make-shift second blanket for him, covering all of his body as he laid sprawled on top of the dai. 

“It's your fault anyway. You should suffer for it”, he growled and tried to find a comfortable position but it didn't matter how many times he shifted his weight, he always ended up with a root, a stone or a branch poking him in the back. He let out a frustrated sigh. 

“It's my fault as much as it is yours”, he noted and pushed one cold hand underneath Malik's robes to steal some of his warmth. His hand was pushed away with a snarl coming from Malik.

“Don't you dare turn this around now”, and if anything, his words were just as icy and cold as the weather and Altair shivered just some more. “You got us lost! Why won't you admit your mistake? Stupid novice...”, he murmured the last part underneath his breath and jolted when a warm tongue met the skin underneath his ear. 

“I got us exactly where I want us to be”, was Altair's simple reply and nibbed on Malik's earlobe before he kissed it and withdraw his lips. “It's not my fault that snow felt so early this year that we couldn't use the mountain path.”

“You should have been prepared”, Malik huffed and he knew this was something he couldn't really blame Altair for but his anger needed to vent and he needed someone he could focus that anger on. 

“We'll be at Masyaf tomorrow evening... this is nothing but a small delay.”

“It's freaking cold, Altair”, and surprisingly, Malik's voice was as calm as it could get which hold something even more terrifying than his usual kicks. 

“It's not if you stop whining and let me warm you”, he murmured and his cold nose was pressing into Malik's shoulder as he pushed his hands underneath the older man's body and hold him tight. “It's already getting warmer, see?”, he murmured softly and closed his eyes.

Malik scoffed. “I fear that depends on what 'warm' means to you”, but he did wrap his one arm around Altair's shoulders and let his palm travel down to the small of his back, his fingers slightly curled. Altair was right though, it certainly got warmer but Malik would never admit that out loud. 

Altair hummed in response, his breathing deep and soothing and the only sound which disturbed the silence was the wind blowing through the treetops above their heads and the cries of nearby mice.


	3. Watching A Movie/Playing Video Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't intend to writing anything set in modern times, they were neither watching a movie or playing a video game but watched belly dancers.

He was lost and there was now way he could ever make it out of this mess sane and save. 

He had him, it was simple as that and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get away from him. He was burning underneath his hands, gasping for air and his body wasn't his anymore in a long time now. His hands were searching, probing and he wondered how much longer it would take for him to cry out. 

Deep, shuddering breaths passed his parted lips, head thrown back and body arched, sweat running down his shoulders and throat, gathering in the small depression of his collarbone. His tongue licked over his glistening skin, teeth scraping across it as he closed his lips over one nipple, sucking firmly and biting gently. With his eyes blindfolded all he could do was to trust his senses, his ears and nose so much more sensitive and he thought he could smell the desire on his breath as it brushed across his face as he pulled his head back, his hand fisting his hair and holding on tight.

“Do you want me to take it off?”, he whispered near his ear, his voice raspy and out of breath and he straddled his lap, his hips rolling against him and he moaned. The moment his lips parted he kissed him, his tongue stroking over his, sucking on his bottom lip and sucking it between his own. He whimpered and shook his head, his eyes wide behind the piece of fabric covering it. “Yes”, he gasped, nodding slightly and the other man pushed up against his chest. 

“But if I do you're going to look at other men and women”, he purred and Altair bit his lips, holding another groan in as his hand sneaked in between their bodies, cupping his sex and fondling it. Before he could lose himself in the touch, Malik's hand came up again and his palm pushed against his chest, right above his heart and he lowered himself on his back again. Malik leaned in close, he could feel his breath moving across his throat and ear and only seconds later his lips found his earlobe, sucking on it and biting gently. “Wouldn't you?”, Malik whispered hotly and made small, circling motions with his hips, his own erection brushing over Altair's whenever he came down again. “Like you did tonight”, he added and Altair could feel how his lips curled into a smirk against his skin. 

“I didn't”, he pressed up against him, his hands searching for Malik's body and he slipped his palm over his thigh and had almost reached the Dai's crotch before Malik grabbed his wrist and pushed it against the ground right next to his head. 

“So you didn't watch them dance? Then why did you tell me you liked the way how they were moving their hips?” He swear he could hear a suppressed snicker in Malik's voice. “Why did you tell me you wanted to see me dancing like them?”, he purred right next to his ear and again, Altair shuddered, his toes curling as he placed his feet flat against the ground, legs falling apart. He rolled his hips upwards and meeting Malik's slow thrusts, his member stiff and aching for attention. “You lied to me Altair”, Malik smirked, his fingers shifting over his blindfold and for a moment he really thought Malik would take it off. He heard him chuckle above him, a smooth sound erupting right from his chest. “I don't think so”, and Altair imagined him to shake his head, smirking down on him. 

Right now he regret deeply for even suggesting going out to watch some of Jerusalem's citizens celebrating a feast with belly dancers being the main attraction as Malik withdraw his hand once more only his fingertips ghosting across his trembling frame. A small smile tugged at Altair's lips when Malik ravished his mouth once more and he could feel the man's heart beating wildly underneath his skin. No. Maybe he didn't regret if something so innocent as simply watching men and women moving their bodies to well-played music could draw such reactions out of Malik.

He pressed his body up, meeting the man above him and biting down on his lip. 

“Maybe I should dance for you then if you're too shy”, he murmured breathless, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Maybe you should”, Malik nodded against his head and he pulled the last fabric of Altair's clothes off his body.

“Maybe I will”, Altair whispered underneath another moan, his hands searching for the Dai's shoulders, his nails leaving angry red marks across his back.

“You will”, Malik grinned and Altair knew he lost but defeat never tasted so sweet.


End file.
